Lock&Load (PASS Series Book 3) Read online

  “Trust me, I wish I hadn’t. Hillary’s request was based on a suspicion she had. Nothing tangible, but a gut feeling. Short of the kid having an injury Jeff—the shelter resident—claimed to have inflicted on his attacker, there was nothing to tie Philips to this case. Not until Jeff was found dead. That’s when we discovered he may well have been a witness to the murder of Gina Castillo, and then the name Curtis Philips became one of interest.”

  I reach for the cup of water on the nightstand and take a sip before I continue.

  “But it wasn’t until I was able to connect his name to the convention in Dallas, I started suspecting he might be a bigger player than we thought.”

  “Matt told me something about an award?” Sanders asks.

  “The BAFTA Young Game Designers Award. The convention featured a panel of previous award winners. Curtis Philips’ name was listed. I was trying to find evidence of his connection to Lock&Load when I got the call from the hospital.”

  “Yeah. Matt followed your trail and was able to make the connection,” Yanis fills in. “Dimas started digging into the kid’s background and discovered he and Jeremy are cousins.”

  I snort. “Bernard Briscoe can’t be too pleased right now.”

  “Your councilman had his legal team on it before we had a chance to question the boys. They’re not talking.” Sanders sounds frustrated. “We have them dead to rights on the murder of Sarah and the attempted murder on you, but I want them to go down for all of the other victims as well.”

  “Tell me they’ll at least be tried as adults,” I press.

  I know that’s not up to Sanders, but I need the reassurance these kids aren’t getting off with a slap on the wrist.

  “I will do everything in my power,” he grinds out, clearly struggling to keep his composure before he continues. “I should go or I’ll miss my flight. I’m heading up to Saginaw to talk to Jenny Churchill. I hope she can give me something I can use to drive a wedge between Curtis and Jeremy. All I need is for one of those two punks to talk.”

  His shoulders droop as he walks out the door.

  “I’ll be there in a sec,” Yanis calls after him, before turning to me and putting a hand on my good shoulder. “Talk to your father?” he asks.

  “This morning. He’s fine. He’s supposed to come by for a visit with my brother this afternoon.”

  “Good. Any word when they plan to let you go?”

  “Maybe tomorrow. I should be able to do some work when I get home, though,” I add.

  “Not gonna happen. Mandatory two weeks off and then we’ll talk.”

  I’m about to respond when Hillary walks in and Yanis slips out with a few quiet words for her.

  “What was that?” I ask her when she leans down on the side of the bed.

  “He apologized for yelling the other day.”

  She grins down at me, appearing almost giddy.

  “Good lunch?”

  “Well, it was…eventful.”

  My attention is piqued. “How so?”

  She leans down and the first thing I smell is her damn shampoo. My body instantly responds.

  “Linda set me straight on something.”

  Her dark eyes smolder just inches from my face. My heart starts thundering in my chest and I swallow hard.

  “Yeah?” my voice cracks.

  “Oh yeah.” I can feel her breath brush my lips. “I’m done holding back, Radar. Done holding up the shields. I’m letting myself fall.”

  She kisses me and I groan in her mouth. I wish I could wrap my arms around her, pull her on top of me, but just the taste of her fills me with a sense of belonging.

  “I may also have quit my job,” she mumbles against my lips. Before her words register, she’s already distracting me with her mouth.

  She abruptly lifts her head at the sound of a throat clearing.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I hear my father’s amused voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hillary

  I pay close attention as the physical therapist takes Radar through a few exercises he’s supposed to do daily, and I plan to make sure he does.

  This morning Rosie dropped by to visit Radar, but as she was leaving pulled me into the hallway. I shouldn’t have been surprised somehow word got to her about my confrontation with Karla yesterday—I’m pretty sure Linda had something to do with that—but Rosie offered me a full-time position at the shelter on the spot. I told her I could start right away, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Told me I looked like I’d gone a few rounds in a boxing ring and ordered me to take a couple of weeks off to heal up.

  She’s right; my face looks like someone used it as a punching bag. My eyes and nose bruised, swollen out of proportion, and the stitches across my forehead giving me a unibrow. Radar doesn’t seem to care, but I noticed his father and brother doing a double take when they walked in on us yesterday afternoon. I’d offered to give them some time alone, but Radar hung on to my hand and wouldn’t let me out of his sight.

  I like his family, like the way they don’t seem to hold back the love they clearly feel for each other. His dad is a bit of a curmudgeon and carries an air of sadness, but I also noticed he looks with pride at both of his sons. Hugh is the embodiment of what I would expect a big brother to be. Teasing, a tad overbearing when it comes to his family, but very personable with a healthy dose of humor. Still, I can imagine it might not have been easy growing up in his shadow.

  “Morning,” Hugh announces as he walks in the door, his father following behind.

  They’d announced yesterday they’d drive us home since Radar’s truck is still at the office and Chris still has my car.

  “Ready to get out of here?” Mr. Jansen directs his question at me.

  “Absolutely. Just waiting for his discharge papers.”

  It’s almost noon by the time we leave the hospital. Hugh is behind the wheel with Radar beside him, and I’m in the back seat with their father, who insists I call him Chuck.

  I’m looking forward to my own shower—the ones in the nurses’ locker room suck—and some normal clothes. Hospital scrubs don’t quite cut it. It’s only been a couple of days, but it’ll be weird going to an empty home.

  I haven’t asked, but I wonder how long Radar’s family is intending to stay. For sure he’ll need someone looking after him for at least a little while, until he can get back on his feet, but I’m sure they can manage. I don’t want to intrude on their family time.

  “…pack a bag and we’ll go pick up that mutt of yours.” I tune in to the conversation from the front seat. “Found a log cabin on the south side of Blue Mesa Reservoir. Booked it for a week. No better time to get our fishing trip in.”

  “Now?” Radar responds incredulously. “I can’t use my arm.”

  “So what? You’ve got a spare,” Hugh responds dryly.

  Beside me Chuck snorts.

  “Ne’er mind those two. Been like this since they was tykes.”

  In the front seat the bickering continues.

  “Low, Hugh, even for you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned it this way. Are you that desperate to beat my record?”

  “Record?” I whisper at Chuck.

  “Growin’ up Hugh always came out on top, ‘cept with fishin’. Radar’s got a knack for it. Patience, I reckon. Could sit still for hours, even as a boy. Always pulled out the biggest fish.” He shakes his head, but his lips twitch. “Fought about it as kids, still going at it as grown-ass men.”

  I grin at him and he winks back.

  Part of me had looked forward to maybe spending some time with Radar since we’re both off work for the next little while, so I’m a little sad, but this’ll be good for him. Sounds like this is something of a family tradition.

  Hugh pulls into the visitors’ parking near the stairs to Radar’s apartment. I quickly get out and round the vehicle so I can give Radar a hand.

  “You good?” I ask when he sways a little on his feet.

  “Yeah. Jus
t tired.”

  “That’s normal. Most people think they’re good as new until they actually leave the hospital. Give it a couple of days and let these guys pamper you a bit.” I lift up on my toes and kiss him sweetly on the lips. “Hope you have a good time.”

  I start walking toward my building.

  “Where are you going?” Radar calls after me.

  “Home. I need a shower and quite possibly a nap.” I turn with a forced smile and take a few steps backward.

  “We plan to leave between three and three thirty,” Hugh announces. “Make sure you pack something warm. The nights can get chilly.”

  It takes me a second to process before I stop in my tracks, my mouth slack.

  “Oh…but I…yeah, okay,” I mumble stupidly.

  “Don’t worry,” Chuck says, a grin on his face. “We won’t be sleeping in bunk beds. The place is more of a lodge than a cabin, with plenty of bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. A state-of-the-art kitchen too,” he adds.

  “Wow. That sounds fantastic. You like to cook?”

  Hugh bursts out laughing. “Dad? He’s king of the frozen meals.”

  “I don’t, no,” Chuck ignores his son and answers with a shrug and a twinkle in his eyes. “But according to Radar, you do.”

  I start laughing too. Cheeky old coot.

  “I see, so that’s how it is,” I tease, but the old man makes no apologies.

  “Not passin’ up on a chance for a home-cooked meal.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I promise, and turn my back as I resume the walk to my apartment.

  Still smiling I throw them a little wave over my shoulder.

  “Three o’clock,” Hugh yells behind me.

  Radar

  Dad wasn’t kidding. This place is huge.

  The main part of the lodge is an open space with a wall of windows in the front overlooking the reservoir, bisected by a ceiling-high, stone fireplace. Three comfortable couches and a rustic coffee table make up the seating area. Behind it is a large open kitchen and dining area. Bedrooms and bathrooms are located in two wings on either side.

  When we arrived, Hugh insisted Hillary and I take the master suite and he and Dad would take the rooms in the opposite wing. The two of them disappeared outside with their fishing tackle, but I didn’t have the energy. Instead I laid down on one of the couches for a bit, while Hillary putzed around in the bedroom, and promptly fell asleep.

  I hear someone moving around the kitchen, but when I try to sit up to see who it is, my shoulder protests loudly and I can’t hold back the vicious curse bursting from my lips. Immediately footsteps approach and Hillary’s face appears over the side of the couch.

  “Need help?”

  “I can do it,” I mutter stubbornly.

  She raises an eyebrow and folds her arms over her chest. Aware of her eyes on me, I try again, this time making sure I roll toward my good side before I drop my feet down and use my core to sit up.

  “I’m going to grab your meds,” she announces and her footsteps retreat.

  Even though it’s on my lips to tell her I don’t need them, the pain in my shoulder disagrees so I keep my mouth shut.

  “You’re a difficult patient, you know that?” she informs me, handing over a couple of pills and a glass of water.

  There’s so much I could say to that, but in the end, I’d still have to admit she’s right. I’ve done little more than snarl since I woke up in the hospital. Being laid up isn’t my idea of fun and it turns out pain makes me cranky. Not being able to work and see this case to the end is messing with my head as well.

  I hate being weak, especially in front of my brother and father, but also around Hillary. Shit, I can’t even hold her properly; never mind doing what is always on my mind when I’m around her. I should be taking care of her. She was injured herself, and has to be worried about her job situation, and yet she’s looking after me.

  “Get out of your head.” She sits down on the coffee table in front of me and I quickly toss back the pills followed by the water. “I can hear the wheels turning and there’s steam coming from your ears.” She turns toward the window and watches the two figures on the edge of the water, my dog Phil sniffing around at their feet. “After dinner we do your exercises, and again in the morning. You take your meds as prescribed and by tomorrow afternoon you’ll be out there with them.”

  She turns back and grabs my spare glasses from the coffee table where I dropped them, and perches them on my face before putting a hand on my neck.

  “You can be as crotchety as you like, but you’re not gonna scare me off. You forget, I deal with pains in the ass like you all the time.”

  I snort and crack a smile.

  “I bet you do.”

  “Let me help get you back on your feet, and I promise I won’t fight you when you want to take care of me.”

  I’m gonna keep her to that and I’ll start by getting her some decent wheels to drive.

  Tucking a stray strand of the hair she started wearing naturally—a look I much prefer—I lean in and press a kiss to her mouth.

  “I’ll take you up on that.”

  I’m pretty sure my dad was already half in love with Hillary, but his first bite of the Navajo fry bread topped with refried beans, sliced flank steak, sautéed onions, and salsa, sealed the deal.

  “Not sure about the wisdom of feeding a houseful of guys refried beans, darlin’,” my brother teases. “You’d have to check with my Leslie on that, but this is damn good stuff.”

  “Your momma teach you to cook like this?” Dad asks innocently, and I check for Hillary’s reaction.

  “My mother’s mother, actually. She and my grandpa raised me. They’re Navajo. I don’t know who my father is, other than he’s clearly black.”

  “You’re a mishmash, like my boys.”

  Hugh and I look at each other and almost burst out laughing. Dad used to tease us by calling us mutts. He did so lovingly, but I’m still glad he opted for a different term.

  “Oh?” Hillary doesn’t appear insulted.

  “Yup, Norwegian and Dutch on my side, and my Cara was Irish and Italian. The boys got my looks and her temper.”

  I’m frankly surprised he brings it up. It used to be the quickest way he could rile Mom up. I remember she’d get steamed and he’d laugh at her before wrapping her in his arms, whispering stuff in her ear until she’d be smiling again.

  “Mom would threaten you with her rolling pin if she could hear you say that,” Hugh comments.

  “She would. She didn’t take crap from anyone, even me.”

  His smile is bittersweet at the memory, but it’s so much better than the stark pain we saw on his face for so many years after losing her. They had a special kind of love, my parents, and it doesn’t surprise me Dad wasn’t able to move on from that.

  I’ve only been with Hillary a short while in comparison, but I can’t even imagine what life was like before, let alone—God forbid—what it would be after.

  Hillary squeezes my knee under the table when she notices my eyes on her. Her look is one of concern.

  “You okay?” she mouths, and I smile at her, not holding back any of the emotions I’m feeling.

  There are words to share as well, but not at the dinner table with my father and brother in audience. That opportunity comes after, when Hillary leads me to the bedroom for my exercises while the others clean up the kitchen.

  She has me lie back on the bed and tells me to relax as she carefully moves my left arm.

  “Your dad is sweet,” she says, smiling gently.

  “Sweet is not the word I’d pick,” I point out, wincing at the stretch in my shoulder. “Although he does seem to be sweet on you.”

  “The feeling is mutual. Your family is great.”

  The last is added with a hint of sadness, and I grab one of her hands with my good one.

  “What’s mine is yours,” I tell her, noting her eyes taking on a shine. “Not that I have any say in the matter, the
y seem to have adopted you all on their own. Took you less than twenty-four hours to steal their hearts.” I press my lips to her palm.

  “I wasn’t trying.”

  “You don’t have to.” I place her hand in the middle of my chest and cover it with mine. “You had mine before you even stopped fighting me.”

  “Honey…” she whispers, bracing an arm on the mattress beside me as she leans close.

  “And for the record,” I mumble softly. “I haven’t just fallen; you’ve landed me square on my ass.”

  She’s still chuckling when I lift my head to take her mouth. She stretches out beside me and tangles her fingers in my hair.

  I feel no pain with her tongue in my mouth, her scent surrounding me, and her sweet curves pressed along the length of my body. I put my functioning arm to good use, sliding my hand down her spine and into the waistband of her jeans to cup a lush asscheek.

  “They’re in the other room,” she mutters, trying to pull back as she catches her breath.

  “There’s a bathroom, a laundry room and a hallway between. We could be screaming and they probably wouldn’t hear.”

  I enforce my words by sliding my fingers down her crease until I feel her slick heat. Slipping a digit inside her pussy, I press deep, swallowing her moan with my mouth.

  She pulls back again, panting hard as she moves off the bed.

  “We’re supposed to be working your muscles.”

  The cocky grin splitting my face is automatic. I’m a guy; my mind can turn anything suggestive.

  With one hand I undo the buttons of my fly and pull free my swollen cock.

  “I have one in particular that could use some attention,” I challenge her.

  She may roll her eyes, but her hands are already stripping down her jeans and panties, leaving her in nothing but the dark curls at the apex of her shapely thighs. Her shirt is gone next and I’m momentarily distracted by the sway of her breasts.

  “Are you sure?” she asks when she climbs on to straddle me. “I don’t want to hurt you.”